Sick Day
by SnarkyMuch2
Summary: Sam has a fever and Dean takes care if him. This is the first installment in a series of one-shots. They are all going to be sick or hurt Sam. Sam and Dean are in an established relationship. Basically a lot of hurt/comfort fluff. Wincest.
1. Fever

**Title:** Sick Day

**Author:** Snarkymuch

**Rating:** M

**Genre:** Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

**Pairing(s)/Character(s):** Sam/Dean

**Warnings:** None

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary: **Sam has a fever and Dean takes care if him.

**AN:** This is the first installment in a series of one-shots. They are all going to be sick or hurt Sam. Sam and Dean are in an established relationship. Basically a lot of hurt/comfort fluff.

* * *

**Sick Day**

Dean woke in the morning with the feeling of heavy limbs draped over him. It made him feel good, contented. He stroked a hand up and down Sam's back, trailing his fingers along his hot skin.

Sam snuffled and shifted, rubbing his stubbly cheek against Dean's shoulder. Dean smirked and leaned his head forward, pressing a kiss to Sam's head.

He was still feverish, and Dean could hear the congestion in his chest.

He checked his watch. It was nearly time for another dose of meds. As much as he didn't want to, he was going to need to wake Sam.

Dean brought up his other hand and stroked it along Sam's arm and then down his side, tracing over his bare hip. "Sammy," he whispered. "Time to wake up."

Sam groaned and threw his leg over Dean higher, pressing himself up against him. "Don't wanna," he mumbled.

Dean ran his hand through Sam's hair, brushing it away from his eyes. "I know, but can you at least roll over so I can get up? I need to get your meds. And honestly, bro, you're sweaty as hell."

Sam ran his hand down the planes of Dean's chest and across his stomach, slowly trailing a path down his stomach to what lay below. "Maybe I would rather just stay right here." He wrapped his hand around Dean and gave him a playful squeeze.

Dean sucked in a breath and threw his head back, biting his lip. "You don't play fair."

Sam lifted his head and smirked as he began to trail open mouth kisses across Dean's chest, licking and biting his way along the muscles of his chest.

Dean could feel himself growing harder. "Sam…"

Sam looked up at him innocently, bottom lip tugged between his teeth.

Dean chuckled. "Don't give me that look, like you're not doing anything." He pushed himself up on his elbows. "You're sick, Sam, and you need to rest. Let me go get your meds and something to drink, and then we can lie in bed all day if you like."

"Fine," Sam huffed, dropping back to the mattress with a thump.

A moment later, Sam's large form was racked with coughs. He gasped and wheezed, trying to catch his breath.

Dean jumped out the bed and went to the table, grabbing Sam's inhaler. "Here," he said, tossing it to Sam, who caught it easily with one hand.

Sam drew a shaky breath through the inhaler and held it. A cough broke from him though, and he began hacking again.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said, "You need to take another hit."

Sam shot him a bitch face and drew another breath through the inhaler and held it for longer this time. He let the breath out slowly, and immediately his breathing sounded a little better.

Dean grabbed the cough syrup and thermometer from the table. He walked back over to the bed, taking a seat beside Sam.

"Okay, first things first, take a shot of this," Dean said, handing the bottle to Sam. "It'll help with that cough and hopefully bring your fever down a notch."

Sam took the bottle and opened it, giving it a sniff. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. "I'm only doing this for you, you know." Sighing, Sam brought the bottle to his lips and took a swig.

Dean watched Sam's throat work as he swallowed the medicine. Even sick Sam was beautiful.

"That shit's awful," Sam said with a grimace.

"Here," Dean held out the thermometer, "stick this under your tongue and shut up for a minute."

Sam rolled his eyes but took the proffered device and stuck it in his mouth. "I would rather it was you in here."

Dean smirked. "Maybe later, right now shut up and let the damn thing work."

A moment later, the thermometer beeped. Dean plucked it from his mouth and read the display. He frowned at the reading, 103.4.

"What?" Sam asked. "You look constipated so it must be bad."

"It's high, Sam. 103.4. You need to rest."

Sam yawned, suddenly feeling worn out. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, for a sick person you're awesome."

Dean tossed the thermometer on the nightstand and got up, walking to the fridge. He grabbed a small bottle of water and brought it to Sam.

"Here, drink this." He opened the bottle and held it out to him. "You need to stay hydrated."

"I'm not thirsty," Sam grabbed the blanket and pulled it up over him. "M'cold."

"Come on, Sammy, just a sip," Dean said softly. "Please."

Sam sighed, but reached up and took the bottle. He took and small sip and then handed it back to Dean, who then set it on the nightstand.

"I don't feel good," Sam moaned as he scooted down in the blankets. "Come lay with me, keep me warm."

Dean smiled. "Scoot over."

Sam rolled onto his side and Dean climbed into the bed behind him. He wrapped him in his arms and pulled him flush to his chest. He pressed his lips to the back of Sam's neck. He could taste the salt on his skin. "I love you," he whispered against him.

"Mmm, love you too."


	2. Bound

The knifed sliced and cut into Sam's flesh, parting it like butter. He screamed out in agony, but no one could hear his screams. He bucked and fought against the restraints, but they didn't give.

"Isn't this fun, Sammy?" the demon said playfully as he stuck the tip of the blade into one of the cuts and turned it, drawing out a cry of pain from Sam.

"Tell me where you're keeping him and I'll end your suffering."

Sam spat out a mouthful of blood and looked up at the demon. "I told you I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't try and tell me you're not hiding him. I saw him with your brother."

"For the last time, I don't know what you're talking about."

And Sam really didn't. He didn't have a clue what this guy was carrying on about. The only guy Dean had even come close to being seen with was the college student from a case they had worked months ago. They had bumped into him on the street the other day. He was clean though. He definitely wasn't anybody a demon would be interested in. Or at least he didn't think so.

The demon circled Sam, humming lightly under his breath. "Where should I cut now, hmm? I could peel the skin from your chest or maybe remove some fingers?"

Sam spat again. "Fuck you."

"Fine, chest it is."

The demon leaned in and placed the knife at the edge of Sam's collarbone and began to cut. Sam threw his head back and cried out.

There was a bang and the demon stopped. He turned on his heel to face the door. Sam tried to look around him to get a better view. What he saw made him nearly cry in relief. Dean was standing in the doorway, demon knife in hand.

He sagged back in his restraints and his head fell. The blood loss was getting to him.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean asked as he walked up to the demon.

Sam raised his head and tried to focus on Dean's voice. "I'm okay."

"He'll be even better when I get done with him," the demon spouted.

Dean shook his head and approached the demon. "You're going to regret the moment you touched a hair on his head."

Dean charged forward, ducking as the demon threw a wild punch, avoiding the blow. He stepped to the side and jabbed the knife into the demon's gut. The demon fell to his knees and then slumped to the floor.

Sam blinked as the blood dripped down his forehead, running into his eyes. It stung.

"Sam," Dean said as he ran to Sam's side. He immediately began to cut away the ropes binding his arms.

Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair, brushing it out of his eyes. "It's okay. I'm here now."

"I don't feel so good."

Cupping the back of Sam's head, Dean leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Sam's forehead. "I know, but I'm going to make it better."

Dean hadn't seen torture like this since he'd left hell. If he had been a minute later, Sam would have been dead for sure. His chest was carved up in swirling patterns. There were small patches of skin that lay open, not fully attached. Thankfully, none of them were too deep. It was going to be a lot of work though to stitch him up.

Dean slipped an arm around Sam and then helped lift him to his feet.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's get you out of here."

Dean led him to the car and helped him take a seat. The cuts oozed sluggishly as he jostled his brother around.

When they got back to the motel, Dean helped Sam inside. Once in, Dean walked him over to the bed and guided him back to lie down.

The cuts pulled and made Sam gasp in pain. "It hurts."

"I know, I know," Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair, brushing it out of his eyes. "I'm going to make it better though." He gave Sam a chaste kiss on the lips and then quickly went to find the first aid kit and the whiskey. They were out of morphine and Percocet. The only thing he had to ease Sam's pain was alcohol and a few Tylenol, which he suspected wouldn't do much.

Dean carried the supplies back to the bed and sat down on the edge. Sam looked like he was starting to go into shock. "Easy, Sam. Take a sip of this," he said, pressing the cool edge of the whiskey bottle to Sam's lips. "It'll help with the pain."

Sam nodded, trying to lift his head. Dean quickly slipped a hand under Sam's head, cradling it. Sam took a drink with a grimace.

"Little more, Sam," Dean held the bottle back to his lips. Sam took another drink and then closed his eyes. He was feeling tired.

Dean looked down at Sam's chest and tried to decide where to start. The first thing he decided he should do was clean the wounds. Taking out the peroxide, he began to rinse and dab clean each slice.

Sam face twitched in pain, but there was no other movement from him.

Dean got out the needle and thread and began the slow process of stitching the wounds closed. Once he was done, he set the kit aside and climbed up in the bed beside his brother. He was careful how he laid, not wanting to hurt him anymore.

Sam looked over at him with tired eyes. "Thank you."

He brushed the back of his hand over Sam's cheek. "I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner."

Sam shook his head. "Don't do that, Dean. Don't blame yourself."

Dean leaned over and pressed a kiss to Sam's lips. Sam parted his lips, wanting more, but Dean leaned back. "You're hurt." Dean rested a hand gently on Sam's stomach.

Sam closed his eyes. "I'm tired."

"Get some sleep, Sam. I'll be here when you wake."


End file.
